Volf: Silver (The Amethyst Trilogy Book 1)

by Sarah Elliot

  Without even understanding why, Ekata knew that he would never be coming back to this wonderful little house and as he passed her, she reached out her hand as though to block his leaving. Expecting to be completely ignored, the girl was surprised to see the wolf stop for a few seconds and glance at her before smiling sadly as if he knew so much more than he was willing to say. “Thank you,” he whispered before turning and disappearing into the blackness of the garden. Before the Volf could even begin to try and comprehend what had just happened there was a sudden explosion of light from behind her and she twisted around to find the entire building engulfed in flames.

  There were screams all around but she could barely focus on any details as only dark shadows moved back and forth across the red and orange dance of the fire. She couldn’t predict how much time had passed but all she knew was that whoever had done this had been malicious about it. All of the windows on the lower ground floor had been boarded up with thick heavy oak panels and the door was wedged in the same style. To make it worse however there was a pit dug around the house, only about a foot deep that was filled with a vile-smelling oil which burned a scorching white colour. The entire family was trapped inside the house, that much she knew and understood but all that filled her was a terror of losing something so precious that without consciously being aware of what she was doing until it was too late, Ekata found herself running through the flames and straight into the burning building.

  It was only later that she wondered how she had managed to pass through the very solid burning wood and bricks or why the figures standing around the house were dressed in heavy black robes, which were marked with saffron-coloured crosses had not seen her but right at that second she was merely running with a purpose that even she herself could not fully comprehend. Every room was alight with the deadly flames and the stairs had long since collapsed before she could even think of heading that way. Screams filled the air, children screaming for their mother, elders within the pack trying to find a way out and the anguished cry of a mother losing everything that was most important to her in the entire world.

  Rushing towards that heartbreaking sound, Ekata found the alpha female from earlier clutching a dagger in her heart and staring at a man who seemed unaffected by the flames advancing upon a boy of possibly eight years old with a glistening steel blade that looked viciously curved and wicked. “To save the world, you must pass over to the next one now,” the figure said, also dressed in the same black cloaks as the others but with a notable white bandana tied around his head. The little boy was backed up against the hearth, shaking terribly with fear watching as the blade was raised high and then slashed down low. A deep, terrible and bloody cut was caused across the child’s abdomen, running from his right shoulder to his left hip which caused him to scream out in pain and terror before attempting to run.

  The swordsman growled his frustration, wondering how his aim could have been thrown off and wildly he slashed at the boy’s back, halting the transformation to a natural wolf form and causing a similar scar, which mirrored the direction and position of the first one.

  Crashing to the floor the boy crawled desperately, unable to see the shimmering barrier which had formed around him, his mind too caught up with the death and destruction that he was suddenly witnessing. “You cannot survive! Accept your fate and all of this will end,” the man growled lunging forward to grab the boy, with murderous intent in his eyes. Ekata dropped the barrier she had been holding over the boy, her terror at the situation having caused the delay in the activation of it, and instead grabbed the bandana the man was wearing, pulling his head back sharply before slamming him backwards into the opposite wall.

  Looking stunned, the man tried to locate his attacker but only saw the boy who was withering on the floor. “You foolish child, no creature has the right to wield that power!” he shouted, pushing himself forward whilst raising his sword to charge once again at the boy and this time make the blow count. He barely made it five paces before finding himself literally frozen to the core as a blade made of ice was sank straight into his heart. “Who are you to say what he can do and what he can’t?” Ekata whispered in a bittersweet tone in his ear. “He has more right than you to wield the power that you tried to steal. He is mine and nothing you do will ever take him from me.”

  Barely aware that she had moved, Ekata found herself outside in the garden of the house, holding onto the terrified child who was weeping openly. Glancing down at him, she gently rested her hand on his head, desperate to know his name but then a soft darkness hit her and for a time she knew no more.

  Pulling himself up from the log he had been resting on, Fiero was surprised to find himself on the edges of the Marshes near his home, but yet there was a different feeling in the air. Normally the place reeked of death and forewarning, a place where few fools dared to tread even in the direst of circumstances as one misplaced step and it was down to the bottom of the depths to join the long-forgotten dead. However right now it smelt more like a lily pond, with a fresh running spring nearby replenishing the water constantly though unseen by all eyes. There were even small glistening flowers on the surface, small and delicate and just about to begin prying open their petals as the sun began to rise in the east. The last few eager fireflies hovered around in shimmering bright lights and twirled about lazily as they prepared to find shelter.

  There was a fine peace in the air, reminding him of the midsummer night festivities that his aunt and uncle held and the glorious feeling of the summer being in full swing. A time of joy, for life to be good and families to be happy before they started to gather the necessaries in order to survive the winter that was coming.

  It was then that his ears twitched lightly upon hearing a song being sang so gently that it sounded more like the passing of the breeze than words. Carefully he made his way through the water, not aware of the silver trace which was slowly forming around him, and headed in the direction of the sound. He had no idea why he was drawn to such a thing but in his heart he knew that he had to reach the singer, though why was a mystery.

  The sun was well up by the time he reached the bend that led to the river and for a second he paused, remembering acutely how he had been running wildly not two nights ago around this area and had tumbled down from this very spot. His smoky grey eyes searched the land in front of him for anything to explain his sudden descent towards the river but instead they were captured by something else.

  Sitting with her back to him, was a young female dressed in a flowing ivory-white gown that reminded him of a painting he had discovered quite by accident in the basement of the Den. It had been held just in the cover of an old, battered and torn-looking book and was not much bigger than a postcard. The painting contained two figures, one male who stood tall and proud in a dark flowing black and gold suit fit for any prince whilst the other was female in the white gown. He had found himself most disappointed that either figure had many details other than the clothes they wore but had not investigated further on the matter.

  Of course he had read through the book, of what he could decipher of it, and found that it told a story of a Silver Maiden who was said to be born into the world as a child of sorrow but would ultimately either become the guiding light of rebirth or the inevitable fall into darkness for the whole supernatural world. At the time the young werewolf had been confused over such a matter, as it seemed impossible to him that any child could be born that way but then the tale had begun to speak of a Guardian Knight who would find the Maiden, though his path to her would be littered with many sorrows of his own and regardless of the outcome of her fate, he would always remain beside her. Fiero had felt strangely calm reading that passage, normally such sissy nonsense would bore him to tears but there was just too much familiarity to the words that he couldn’t stop reading.

  Though now as he stared at the girl on the riverbed, he reflected keenly on the words now and wondered, not for the first time, if there was more to him than even his uncles suspect
ed. The figure was still sitting in place, singing her little tune and he carefully cast his eyes around until he spotted the old bridge with a path that led down to the riverbed as he did not want to tumble down like a clumsy oaf and spoil the moment. He knew that he had to talk to this girl, for no other reason than to satisfy his curiosity, or at least that was what his head told him whilst his heart began to beat just a little faster in anticipation.

  Flicking her ears back upon hearing a sound, Ekata rose swiftly in a panic, presuming that she had lingered far too long and was about to move on when she realised that there was no freezing snow or biting ice in this place. Slowly her amber eyes took in the riverbank with its twisting roots of ancient trees and soft, clay like mud but not recognising it fully at first.

  There was a softness here, like the awakening of the world after a well-needed downpour of rain and a distant hint of home-baked bread and wild flowers pruned back in a beautiful garden drifted on the breeze. It was safe here, there were no lingering threats of vampires or hunters or insane monsters spurred up from the blackest parts of the blackest caves in the worlds of creation looming ever-present and for a moment she felt the uttermost joy of being free.

  Except for a doubt that naturally lingered in her mind about having been here before, in the snow and cold, covered in mud and terrified out of her mind. Taking a couple of steps towards the babbling waters, just becoming aware of how high the sun was up in the sky now, she stared into them as if looking for some form of answer. Pulling up sharply from the water, her breath catching in her throat at the reflection which she presumed at first was some form of illusion, Ekata blinked a few times before leaning back down. A silver moon shone in place of the sun and the stars twinkled high above and the figure looking terrified back at her was caked with mud and so many tear lines that it looked like two marks had been purposefully made on her face. She knew it was her own reflection but couldn’t comprehend why it had shocked her so much. Her appearance was never much of a thing to remark upon unless it was merely to be called a thousand more terrible names for it. But here was little time to work on one’s appearance when trying to escape from blood-thirsty vampires who were after your throat.

  It was then that the waters stilled long enough for her to see fully why she had been so shocked by the image, there was another figure with her. He was slumped on the opposite bank, looking like he had gone through a war but was clearly still alive and very much well. The other her in the water nodded before retreating back to the boy and a fish’s bright back broke the surface of the mirror like water and shattered it. Pulling back with a confused frown, the girl’s hands immediately sought for the cross that she bore around her neck normally to seek the advice of Father Tuxbury despite the fact that he had been dead longer than she ever cared to remember. Clutching at the empty space where it normally hung, Ekata panicked for a few seconds before suddenly catching sight of her arm. Instead of the rags she was used to wearing, there was an elegantly long silk sleeve that flowed down from just below her shoulder for the full length of her arm.

  Before she could ask aloud her questions of confusion, there was a snap of a twig being broken behind her and quickly she snapped around, expecting to find a vampire waiting to pounce. Instead her eyes widened in pleasant surprise when they fell on the figure of a young knight or possibly rouge it was hard to tell, who stared at her with stunning silver eyes, whilst the full-grown coal-black wolf ears clearly marked him as being a creature of the night world. He was dressed in a rough leather tunic and black trousers, his messy brown hair having been semi-tamed but in a way which would fall out the first opportunity that was presented and his bare arms looked formidable but also warm and inviting.

  Blinking, she heard Father Tuxbury’s voice in her head whispering, “One day you will find your knight, my most beautiful child, and he will find you. Though you may not know one another now, when the time comes you will see past the outward appearance and into his very soul for you have been connected far longer than even the greatest of scholars can predict.”

  Aware that the young man in front of her had said something, she tilted her head to the side in question, her white ears flicking back and forth. Fiero couldn’t help but smile at the action, as it caused the woman in front of him to appear childlike and sweet to an almost irresistible level which normally would have disturbed him. She was more beautiful than he had ever imagined the final painting to be, with her long ebony-black hair and strange amber-coloured eyes. Part of him thought that she looked like a doll, one that should be kept in a beautiful case to be viewed but never touched by anyone but the majority of his mind couldn’t help but be blinded by an overwhelming sense of joy and a love which shouldn’t yet be possible.

  Stepping closer to the girl, who only flinched just a little in his presence, his hand rose steadily to her cheek, the backs of his fingers running down the uttermost smoothness as he breathed out steadily for a second or two. “I found you, my lady, just as I promised I would do.”

  Ekata blinked up at him, recalling the words from the other night and understanding them more without understanding anything else in the grand picture that was around them. “You should have looked more carefully when you came to find me,” she said teasingly towards him, like she had always known this stranger but not questioning it now.

  A smirk was her reward, the dark type of knowing that was sarcastic and yet wonderfully sincere as her hands reached out cautiously to rest against his broad chest and shoulders, “I was beginning to fear I would never find your rebirth, I feared that the darkness had already claimed you.”

  “It tried,” Fiero whispered back, finding his arms winding around her small frame. “But it shall take more than them fools to destroy either one of us.”

  Pulling him just a little closer, the Volf had to pause just for a second before kissing him. “Tell me your name, sir knight, so I will not forget it upon awakening.”

  “You already know it, my dearest Ekata,” Fiero whispered, only reflecting later how he had known hers without having ever hearing it, before placing a kiss lightly on the soft and waiting lips.

  When he pulled back, he heard the whisper of, ‘Fiero’, before the sunlight suddenly became overbearing and with a groan he found himself awake, in his old bedroom in the Den with his aunt pushing open the curtains of his room.

  Sitting up a little too quickly, the werewolf shook his head in order to dispel the wave of dizziness that hit him before glancing up at Stefina when she approached with that worried expression on her face. “Where’s Ekata?” he asked almost instantly, before correcting himself, “the girl that was brought here. Where is she?”

  Carefully stepping back from her nephew, Stefina seemed to shudder before quietly stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her. Fiero frowned but opted to not cause any more hassle than what he had clearly done already. It was only then that he caught his reflection in the mirror and saw that just for a moment his eyes shone silver before returning to their normal odd colouring.

  Chapter 5

  Crescent Moon

  Gently twisting a slither of just-cooked meat around his fingers, Mephistopheles regarded the Den with bored eyes. It was like most typical Den’s, a small, rather dilapidated house that barely looked like it could hold more than five people at best which had been situated in a place where its presence would go unremarked. Forests were typical of Werewolves, as it made sense for there to be old houses in the middle of them and it was rare for anyone to come knocking as most ramblers had their own routes already pre-planned on little paths marked out by other humans. He did have to begrudgingly admit that this pack had definitely a sense of pride and survival by housing themselves so close to a rather lethal-looking marsh which indubitably had many horror stories that were, for once, actually true but it did complicate things a little for him and his sister. “Crafty swine’s, the lot of them,” he murmured quietly to himself, blinking his grey eyes slowly as if thinking a multitude of differe
nt thoughts.

  Siren was thankfully distracted enough by the fire and was in the process of tormenting a squirrel she had managed to capture so was not paying any real attention to her big brother’s actions. Not that there was anything to pay attention to of course, Mephistopheles reflected that was what made life so much easier with the only female member of Cresta’s vampiric brood but even the great amongst the great sometimes had to take account of the bigger picture. Especially when it came to tricky siblings.

  His grey eyes roamed over the visible building, trying to gauge just how far below the soil the Den would go and how many tunnels would lead off of it. Or whether or not the pack more up on the times and living in a denser situation, more like a house which had been built underground with natural light pools and hidden windows? Impossible to tell from the old cottage that was the surface structure but knowing would make life all the easier.

  Plus, if they went back without the Volf, then Cresta’s wrath would be the least of their worries. The tricky little girl had managed to get herself firmly inside the barriers, which prevented them from entering but also meant that until her feeding she would be trapped inside. That would be fun to watch, part of his mind reflected, seeing the reaction of these placid wolves as they realised just what they were harbouring under their roof whilst one of their own was drained in front of their eyes. Vampires needed blood to stay alive, as did both Volf’s but their hunger was far greater and usually came on without warning. Unless one knew the true meaning of the Blood Moon.

  There was a squeak behind him, followed by a sudden scampering noise and quietly he turned, upraising a midnight-blue eyebrow up at his sister who was standing just at the edge of the firelight with her back to him. Her long auburn hair cascaded down her back in a mess that still somehow managed to look enticing, whilst the folds of her dress looked more frayed than ever before. “Squirrel gone,” came the reply to the unasked question, which caused the older vampire to lightly roll his eyes and turn his attention back to the house.